8 Simple Rules For Dating My Teenage Daughter
by MadiWillow
Summary: The usually pleasant Mr. Evans clues Chad in to a couple of very important rules as he begins dating his daughter. OneShot. CxS


**AN:** So much for my no more HSM stories promise, right? Well, I don't think this counts, as it's a one-shot. READ AND ENJOY.

These rules are not mine; they come from the book of the same name.

**Title: **_8 Simple Rules For Dating My Teenage Daughter  
_**Rating:** _T  
_**Author: **_MadiWillow  
_**Summary: **_The usually pleasant Mr. Evans clues Chad in to a couple of very important rules as he begins dating his daughter.  
_**Genre:** _Romance/Humor  
_**Chapter: **_OneShot_

Mr. Evans was a nice man. Really, he was. He paid his employees very generously, his treated his wife to luxurious vacations and necessities, such as yearly cruises to Mexico and embellished cars, and let his kids to generally anything they wanted. He was kind to their friends and often donated money to their teachers to ensure good grades.

Yes, he was a very nice man.

However, one aspect of his life that made Mr. Evans a perhaps not so nice man was the prospect of his seventeen-year-old daughter dating. Especially that wild-haired boy. Why couldn't his sweet baby girl date the son of one of his rich country club friends? Boys who would one day go on to inherit successful family businesses and _tons_ of money? Why would she choose a... normal boy? And not only that, but one of his employees? One of his _servers_? He'd raised his daughter better than to fraternize with the help.

Mrs. Evans told him he was overreacting.

Mr. Evans knew he was very much not overreacting in the slightest; simply reacting.

Henceforth, Mr. Evans decided to put into place a couple rules for his daughter's not-so-rich-servant boyfriend.

**1. Dates must be in crowded public places. You want romance? Read a book.**

The first time the Not Rich Servant Boy took his daughter out, he came to the door to greet Mr. Evans properly. He firmly shook Mr. Evans' hand and informed him that he and Mr. Evans' precious baby were going to the movies, and then for a walk around the park, and shortly thereafter, they would go to Not Rich Servant Boy's house for dessert. He assured Mr. Evans that his daughter would be home by eleven.

Mr. Evans smiled tightly. He informed the couple that in no way, shape, or form would he allow Not Rich Servant Boy to take his daughter for a walk _alone_, after dark, and – God forbid – to his house.

NRSB seemed slightly confused at Mr. Evans' casual refusal. Daughter blushed and whined and pleaded, but Mr. Evans did not relent. He took NRSB aside and enlightened him of the rules, and that he had just broken one of them. He told him it would be very, very unwise for NRSB to break any, and NRSB asked tentatively if Mr. Evans could tell him the rest of the rules. Mr. Evans laughed heartily and clapped NRSB on the back. There would no fun in that, after all. The best part of Daughter dating NRSB – or any boy, for that matter – was yelling at the boyfriend. If said boy knew everything that would anger Mr. Evans, the only perks of Daughter dating would be sadly diminished.

Their date that night instead took place in the Evans' living room, with Mr. Evans between them as they watched _The Godfather_.

**2. Only delivery men honk. Dates ring the doorbell. Once.**

A couple weeks later, Mr. Evans finally gave in – due to Mrs. Evans' persistent nagging – to allow NRSB to take Daughter out on a real date. Of course, the real date consisted of the two going to a pizza parlor and nothing more. But a real date, nonetheless.

Daughter was still upstairs getting ready when NRSB arrived. How did Mr. Evans know that NRSB arrived, one might ask? Well, instead of NRSB ringing the doorbell, he honked the car horn impatiently.

Mr. Evans opened the door and saw the boy's car up against the sidewalk. Mr. Evans used his forefinger to beckon NRSB to the door. The boy exited his car and cautiously approached Mr. Evans, fearing him. Mr. Evans liked that the boy feared him. He felt as though his rules were working.

Mr. Evans pleasantly informed NRSB that he had broken a second rule, and relayed it to him. NRSB nodded furiously, his atrociously wild curls bouncing. Mr. Evans thought briefly about perhaps adding a ninth rule, in which it was stated that your daughter's date could not have more hair that your daughter, but said daughter arrived in the doorway that very second. She ushered NRSB out of the door and to his car before Mr. Evans could officially add the rule.

**3. Bring her home late, there's no next date.**

A couple weeks later still, Mrs. Evans had convinced Mr. Evans to allow NRSB to finally take Daughter out on a real date – complete with dinner, a movie, and dessert. He was able to compromise, at least: NRSB was to have Daughter home by ten o' clock P.M., sharp.

Mr. Evans, true to his word to his wife, was sitting in an expensive armchair in his large foyer. He took up his station at nine-forty-five, assuming that NRSB would have clued in to Mr. Evans' antics by that time and would be home before ten.

However, Mr. Evans realized with a frown and a glance to his Rolex watch that NRSB had clearly not realized how serious Mr. Evans was about his daughter and said eight rules. It was eleven-oh-six when the front door opened and Daughter walked through, grinning sheepishly at Mr. Evans. NRSB followed, looking a bit scared, but not nearly enough as he should have been.

He apologized for bringing Daughter home a few minutes after curfew. Mr. Evans stood up and smiled in that oh-so-familiar pleasant way. NRSB had figured out one thing about Mr. Evans – that oh-so-familiar pleasant smile always alluded to not-so-pleasant words. Daughter was sent to her room, whilst NRSB was ordered to stay.

Mr. Evans, without any lead-in, told the boy the third rule. NRSB paled and looked very fearful at the mention of no next date. Mrs. Evans had the horrible timing to take that very second to walk into the foyer, and she assured NRSB that the last part of the rule was not meant to be taken seriously. Mr. Evans looked at her strangely and told her that it very much _was_ to be taken seriously. NRSB looked back and forth doubtfully, not knowing who to believe. Mrs. Evans told him to leave and that he could see Daughter the next day at school. NRSB positively flew out of there; Mr. Evans swore he could hear the tires screeching.

Mrs. Evans scolded Mr. Evans for supposedly ruining Daughter's love life. However, Mr. Evans rubbed it in her face later the fact that, after that particular incident, NRSB was never late to bringing Daughter home again.

**4. No complaining while you're waiting for her. If you're bored, change my oil.**

One night, before one of their dates, Daughter was taking a particularly long time to get ready. NRSB, having learned his lessons thus far, stood in the foyer to wait for her. Yet, what he didn't know, was that Mr. Evans was standing quietly in the dark living room adjacent to the foyer. He was not spying, as Mrs. Evans put it later; merely supervising.

After about ten minutes, NRSB called, rather irritably, up to Daughter and told her to, quote, hurry the hell up before he leaves without her, end quote.

That was all Mr. Evans needed.

He popped out of the living room and Smiled Pleasantly. NRSB swallowed at the night of him.

Mr. Evans relayed the fourth rule that NRSB had broken. The boy bit his lip nervously, and asked if Mr. Evans really wanted him to change his oil. Mr. Evans responded with a very honest and truthful yes, but Daughter, either by chance or in an attempt to save her boyfriend from the wrath that was her father, thundered loudly down the stairs and told Mr. Evans that they were going to lose their reservations.

With a furrowed brow, Mr. Evans watched them go. He couldn't understand why Daughter was always so worried about her father being to hard on NRSB. After all, Mrs. Evans had been delighted back when they were dating for Mr. Evans to practically kiss the ground she walked on. Daughter was different, somehow.

**5. If your pants hang off your hips, I'll gladly secure them with my staple gun.**

Finally, Mr. Evans allowed NRSB to start taking Daughter to school, after his son began going in early for extra help in Calculus. He deliberately scheduled all of his meetings to start at nine A.M. that first day, so that he would be home when the boy picked her up. NRSB came to the door like a gentleman, rang the door once like a gentleman, and waited patiently for Daughter to come running down the stairs five minutes later to let him in.

Mr. Evans took one look at NRSB and told Daughter that he would retrieve her lunch for her in the kitchen. As he grabbed the paper bag that the maid had set out for Daughter, he also rummaged through a drawer for a silver contraption.

Walking back into the foyer, he Smiled Pleasantly, whilst holding up the paper bag in one hand and the staple gun in the other, clicking it for emphasis.

NRSB eyed the staple gun very apprehensively and Daughter took a half a step sideways, so as to put herself in between the two males. She uttered his name cautiously.

They both knew what was coming as he explained to them the fifth rule. NRSB quickly yanked his jeans upwards, so that his pink plaid boxer shorts were no longer visible to Mr. Evans' eyes. Daughter slowly stepped forward and snatched the paper bag from her father, backing out slowly and pushing NRSB out behind her.

Mr. Evans was slightly disappointed that he wasn't able to use his trusty staple gun.

**6. Use your hands on my daughter and you'll lose them after.**

One fine, pleasant day, Mr. Evans was strolling through his mansion of a home when he passed the archway into the living room. He stopped and walked backwards slowly, peering inside the room suspiciously. There his daughter was – glued to the mouth of NRSB. Mr. Evans could not see said boy's hands.

He strode into the room silently, purposefully making his presence unknown. He walked around the couch so that he was facing the two teens – he now knew where his hand were.

Mr. Evans cleared his throat and the two teens jumped ten feet apart as if their lips were suddenly red hot. Daughter and NRSB looked up alarmingly. Mr. Evans delivered the sixth rule, and NRSB sat on his hands nervously. Daughter whined and pleaded, again, with Mr. Evans to stop, but he was defiantly stubborn.

This time, it was Son who convinced Mr. Evans to go easy on NRSB that time. Son told Mr. Evans that next time time he walked in on Daughter and NRSB in a compromising position, he could chop his hands off. But the first time, Son said, Mr. Evans should calm down a bit.

Sadly for Mr. Evans, Son clearly informed NRSB of the agreement, as Mr. Evans never walked in on them kissing again.

**7. You make her cry, I make you cry.**

About six months after Daughter and NRSB began dating, Daughter returned from a date one Friday night in tears. Mr. Evans watched anxiously, immediately coming to the educated conclusion that NRSB had committed this unlawful and crude act.

Mr. Evans opened the door to his large house and saw the boy's Ford Explorer still stationed in front of the house. Mr. Evans stormed out and approached the car, tapping the driver's side window impatiently. NRSB's face registered a fearful look, as he realized he had broken another one of the sacred Unbreakable Rules. He slowly rolled the window down, and Mr. Evans reached forward, smacking the boy on the head. The boy yelped in pain, and Mr. Evans, satisfied, repeated to him rule number seven.

Sadly for Mr. Evans, NRSB showed up the next morning to make up with Daughter. Mr. Evans overheard him telling her that he would never make her cry again. Daughter did not see the double-meaning in his words.

**8. Safe sex is a myth. Anything you try will be hazardous to your health.**

Two months later, Mr. Evans found something that no father should ever, _ever_ have to find. He was passing the laundry room one day as he spied the half-folded clothes. The maid had taken a break to prepare Daughter and NRSB a snack, and Mr. Evans let his hands graze over the clothes.

Then, something strange caught his eye: a piece of candy wrapped in a type of bright green wrapper. Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes and bent closer, eyeing the strange candy.

It didn't take him long to realize that the wrapper was very much _not_ a wrapper meant for candy.

He raged into the kitchen, roaring nearly incomprehensibly. Daughter and NRSB watched him with wide eyes, as if they were deer caught in headlights, and they wondered which rule had been broken that time. They realized it when the condom flew out of his hands and landed in the middle of the table.

Daughter jumped up and swore loudly; NRSB jumped up and backed away into the wall.

It took the combined efforts of Mrs. Evans, the two maids, and Son to calm down Mr. Evans, who was beside himself. Daughter stood in front of NRSB, protecting him from the blows that they both were positive were coming.

No punches were thrown, luckily; as much as Daughter hated her father's overprotective behavior, she didn't want him in jail for murder.

Instead of violence, he paced the kitchen and ranted so much that spit flew from his mouth. Through his angry stutters, he told NRSB the eighth rule. The boy had broken all eight rules, and his consequence would be delivered to him the next day.

Daughter told Mr. Evans that she was not going to let him mess up her relationship, but Mr. Evans told her he could do whatever he liked. She burst into tears and stomped up the stairs. NRSB attempted to follow her, but Mrs. Evans, of all people, told him gently that he should probably head home. NRSB glanced up the stairs, seemingly torn between Daughter upstairs and Mr. Evans downstairs. After a long moment and with a deep sigh, he exited the house.

Mrs. Evans told Mr. Evans that he could be as angry as he wanted, but he couldn't meddle in Daughter's love life. Mr. Evans countered that he could. Mrs. Evans agreed half-heartedly that that fact was true, but if he ever wanted Daughter to visit him or even like him as she grows older, he'd better think about his actions before he goes through with them.

Mr. Evans slept on his wife's words that night, deeply contemplating.

The next morning, the doorbell rang once, and whoever was at the door waited the five minutes it took for Mr. Evans to open the door. NRSB stood very nervously, his hands rigidly at his sides and his pants were held up around his waist by a leather belt. He waited until Mr. Evans stood back to let him in, and he entered cautiously.

Mr. Evans led the boy into the living room and the boy remained standing until the father himself sat down. They were quiet for a few moments, NRSB twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

Finally, Mr. Evans spoke.

He told NRSB that he'd been trying to scare him away from his daughter for the last eight months. The rules were a way to ensure that he did not treat Daughter badly. Unfortunately for the boy, he had broken each of them once.

NRSB swallowed.

Mr. Evans continued. However, even though the boy had broken each rule, he still stood by Daughter. He still expressed interest in being with her, and he still put up with Mr. Evans.

NRSB eyed Mr. Evans apprehensively.

Sighing, Mr. Evans said that as much as he didn't want Daughter to date, he had no choice but to admit that NRSB was probably the best choice. The fact that he still wanted to be with Daughter despite the pressure of the eight rules always surrounding him proved to Mr. Evans that NRSB was the right boy for his daughter.

NRSB was silent for a few seconds before smiling slowly – one of the only times Mr. Evans had ever seen him smile. NRSB thanked him profusely, saying that he loved Daughter very much.

Mr. Evans silenced him, saying he didn't need to know everything about their relationship. He then allowed the boy the go up to Daughter's room, something he'd rarely ever allowed them to do.

As the boy jogged happily up the stairs, Mr. Evans wondered what the hell had come over him. He shook his head slightly, thinking that Chad wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
